Same, same but different!

Part 7

Mavi: I miss Kıvılcım abla.

Ömer wasn't stunned by Mavi's words. He knew this would happen.

Ömer: You miss her?

Mavi: Yes, a lot. I had so much fun with her.

She pauses, then looks up at him thoughtfully.

Ömer: You want to see her, don't you?

Mavi smiles at her baba.

Mavi: I really, really want to see her.

Ömer: Tamam, I'll talk to Metehan.

Mavi: I can call her on my iPad.

Ömer looks surprised at Mavi.

Ömer: You have her phone number?

Mavi: Yes, she said I can call her whenever I like but I'm shy. Maybe she'll get tired of me.

Ömer hugs Mavi tighter.

Ömer: Is it even possible to get tired of this little bug. You try giving her call tomorrow, I'm sure she misses you too.

The house was quiet, the kind of silence that only made the thoughts in Ömer's head louder. Mavi had fallen asleep hours ago, her soft breathing echoing faintly from the monitor beside his chair. But rest wouldn't come for him.

Ömer sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His phone laying on the coffee table, untouched but not unnoticed. His foot tapped restlessly against the floor, his jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

He tried working it didn't. So he started to drink. One glass... second glass and when he came to the third glass he swirled the alcohol in the glass.

Ömer (to himself, quietly): Enough.

He stood abruptly, pacing a few steps, then stopped in front of the table. Reaching for his phone, he opened it, hovered over her number, his thumb trembling slightly above the screen.

He couldn't text. Not this. Not after everything.

Ömer (muttering): I need to fix this.

He let Ayse Abla know that his leaving and left the monitor with her. He grabbed his car keys and jacket.

Ömer drove into her driveway. He didn't how long it took for him to reach her house. He was torn about what to say. He knew she wouldn't be happy with him showing up her house. He stood outside for a moment, palms sweating, heart racing. What was he even going to say? But he couldn't carry this weight any longer. Not when it was clearly bothering her too.

Kıvılcım sat on the couch in her lounge, wrapped in a thin throw, a barely-touched cup of chamomile tea beside her. She was reading her book or she at least she tried. There's a knock at the door. She glanced at the time... 23:17. Could it be Metehan? He said he'd be home much later. And where is his keys?

Frowning, she walked cautiously to the intercom.

Kıvılcım: Who's there?

Ömer (voice crackling slightly through the speaker): It's me... Ömer.

Silence. Hesitation. Shock.

Kıvılcım (after a long pause): Do you know what time it is?

Ömer: I do. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come this late. But... I couldn't wait any longer.

Another pause.

Kıvılcım: Ömer go away. Are you crazy to come to my house at this time of night? I don't want to see you.